


Piglin-In-Law

by trainmaker



Series: dream smp canon compliant [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Marriage, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Michael the Piglin, piglin customs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmaker/pseuds/trainmaker
Summary: Ranboo has to tell Techno and Phil about his family. Tubbo worries that he'll break if he tries to please everyone. Michael is Michael.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: dream smp canon compliant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211534
Comments: 48
Kudos: 614





	Piglin-In-Law

**Author's Note:**

> please keep in mind that this fic portrays ranboo and tubbo's marriage as romantic. they have specified it as both romantic and platonic multiple times so i opted to keep it very minimal. there's one kiss, that's all. if this bothers you, don't read it!  
> to be clear, ranboo has said he is fine with fic and tubbo has only ever said he doesn't want content made of him and tommy. i dont want to debate and i wouldn't consider this content problematic because of how canon it is. 
> 
> sorry for the big preface and sorry if you didn't want to read this fic

"I just wish it wasn't so hard," Ranboo said into the space between Tubbo's collarbone and neck.

"That's what she said." His body erupted in giggles. Ranboo could feel the vibrations of them and didn't have the energy to hold back his own. They were curled up in a patch of sunlight, blankets were strewn across the hardwood as they chased its warmth. When it shifted, every hour or so, they slid their blankets to follow. Ranboo liked the warmth of the sun on his back and the steady heat of Tubbo around him. He'd succeeded in folding himself up small enough to be held, Tubbo's arms bracketing him, one hand carding through his hair. It was getting long, long enough that Techno kept covertly offering him hair-pins. 

"Seriously though, we have to tell them," Ranboo said softly, lifting his head so he could look Tubbo in the eye. "I don't want them to find out by accident. It would not be good. Not good."

Tubbo wrinkled his nose. "You make it sound like it's such a big deal."

"It kind of is." Ranboo lifted his hand so his ring caught the sunlight. It was a greenish opal, earthy and hand-mined. "It's not every day you marry your best friend."

"And not every best friend is worth marrying." Tubbo tacked on, touching their noses together softly.

"Mm," Ranboo brought a hand to the back of Tubbo's neck. "No, just you." He kissed him and let the conversation fade with the sunlight. They had time until Michael woke from his nap.

\--

"Is it..." Ranboo sucked in a breath. "Are you embarrassed about it?"

Tubbo's hand stilled. He was stirring a simmering pot of carrot ginger soup. "Ranboo, no." He turned away from the wood-stove, ducking under sprigs of drying herbs until they were face to face. "I'm not. I could never be." He reached a hand up, up, up and Ranboo leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. The kitchen smelled sweet and sharp, soup and sourdough bread. "Marrying you is probably the best thing I've done on this server." 

Ranboo hummed ambivalently and Tubbo continued. "My presidency was a sham, wasn't even elected. Half the conflicts we've had are probably my fault. But you  _ chose _ me. You know how much people like you? How much I admire you? How could I not want to tell people that I've snagged you? Me, with  _ you." _

A thousand protests bubbled up, but a sharp hiss from the soup pot interrupted them. Tubbo slid out of reach to tend to it and Ranboo felt rudderless without him. 

"Do you think they'll be happy for you when you tell them it's me?" Tubbo said quietly. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

He wants to carve the doubt from his husband's voice. To watch it disappear into the End. But it's part of him. It's laced with truth, too. Intentionally or not, the people he loved had placed themselves on opposing sides. No matter how similar their views were, there was a deep, unyielding gap between them and Ranboo was stretched thin across it. 

"If they can't love you, I don't care." Ranboo came closer again, covering Tubbo's body with his own. He wrapped his arms around his narrow shoulders and pressed his nose to the soft green sweater he wore. 

"But I care." Tubbo twisted to look at him. "You don't pick sides. You can't pick me."

Ranboo struggled to respond. Part of him wanted to deny it, to forget the promise he'd made for himself in favour of this one. In favour of the consuming, irrational, defiant feelings he had for Tubbo. But what was he then? If he denied the fundamental idea he'd built himself upon, he was someone else. Tubbo had married him for what he was then, not who he might be after. Somehow, together, all the ideas so much bigger than him seemed conceivable. Bearable if done with two sets of hands. And there was Michael too. 

"I need all of you by my side. I have to tell them." He said.

"I know."

\--

Normally, Ranboo would have contracted someone like Puffy or Foolish to help him. He was hauling wood for an addition to his home. It wasn't that Tubbo wasn't strong, he just had a habit of running his mouth the whole time. 

"It's just so heavy." He complained, dragging the sledge behind him. Ranboo had two boughs over his shoulders and he envied the way the sledge's runner ran through the snow easily. It was piled high with wood, the smaller, harder to carry bits. "And you have such long legs."

"You like my long legs." Ranboo grinned, passing him. They were nearly at his place, just rounding the edge of the snowy valley. His roof crested over the slopes, a steady stream of smoke sputtering out into the pale blue sky. "When we get there I'll make you something warm. You can borrow a cloak."

"In that case—" Tubbo's voice stopped in sync with the cocking-click of a loaded crossbow. Ranboo wheeled around, letting the heavy branches fall and knock into his shoulders. The sledge was descending steadily back down the hill they had climbed, its minder was frozen stock-still under the weight of Technoblade's crosshair. Tubbo's face was snow-white, his whole person taken with a sort of icy chill. His grey eyes shut tight, the scar tissue on his left brow pinched with the force of it. Techno loomed, casting tall shadows like a shroud across him.

"Explain," He said sharply, dark eyes flicking briefly to meet Ranboo's own. "And don't lie." 

"Put that away," Ranboo said, voice grating to his own ears. "Just," He took a step forward and Techno turned the weapon on him in turn. "Please, I'll explain. Just put it away." He saw Tubbo heave a shuddering breath, one hand fumbling against his cheek as if checking the phantom wound there. He could hardly breathe for how much he wanted to go to him. He'd never needed to protect Tubbo before, it was always the other way around. Tubbo the fearless leader, small and earth-turning. Faced with this vision of the past, a mirror of his own death, he was reduced to nothing at all. Ranboo reached a trembling hand, covering the arrowhead with his palm and letting the weight of it fall until Techno relented. The crossbow was gone. 

"He's with me." Ranboo began. Tubbo shuffled a little closer and Techno's gaze followed him. It was like watching a mob lock onto their prey, ceaseless and terrifying. "Techno, you know how I feel about choosing sides."

"Does he?" Techno flung an accusatory hand at Tubbo who took the last steps two at a time. He tucked himself up and under Ranboo's cloak, hand finding his.

"Yeah, he does." He swallowed, finding the evenness in his breath. "We deserve more than this." The crossbow looked heavy in its sheath, the arrows heavier. "More than waiting for the other to strike first. I'm so sick of guessing which friend will turn, of expecting it."

Techno's gaze was a thousand foot-soldiers, poised and ready and waiting for a command. He was one of the few people who could meet Ranboo's eyes without looking up. "Every battle, every life lost, he's had his hand in it. Him and the institution he loves." Techno said. Tubbo bristled at his side, and Ranboo was glad he was unarmed. 

"And you?" Ranboo shot back. "I forgave you. Or maybe I just forgot." He closed his eyes and saw the black, consuming grid of obsidian, the parapets falling at the hand of angry gods. The man before him was no god though, he was tired. He was afraid. "I've had enough of war."

"Then let's not fight," Techno said finally. He caught the hawk-like focus where it was fixed on his hand, on the ring there. Ranboo curled his fingers into a tight fist at his side. The expression on Techno's face changed to something like pity or maybe acceptance. He stepped back, the arena dissolved. "I was in love once. Might still be."

"You're in love with that." Tubbo ground out. He eyed the crossbow with fiery contempt. "With death."

Techno heaved out a heavy breath, looking over his shoulder at the twin-cottages. "Something like that." 

"I won't bring him by again," Ranboo said. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

"No, if he's..." Techno was returned somehow to that familiar version of himself. The one who lent Ranboo emeralds and taught him to navigate the complicated maps he traded for. "If he's with you, I don't mind. I'll get used to it."

\--

It took weeks for Tubbo to feel comfortable unarmed again. Ranboo had woken one night to see his small figure hovering at the window, overlooking the unyielding night with a sword in hand. He made a point of shifting until the bed creaked and Tubbo broke his trance to look. 

"Something out there?" Ranboo asked gently.

"No. No, just making sure." Tubbo lay the sword against the windowsill and curled up in his arms. Sleep seemed to follow immediately, his entire body going lax under his touch. Ranboo stayed awake much longer.

He wondered if maybe he was forcing the impossible. If he was bridging a gap that would crumble as soon as it was crossed. He pressed a kiss behind Tubbo's ear and waited for morning.

\--

Phil spooned out rich, creamy mashed potatoes into each bowl. The whole cabin smelled of it, masking the usual gunpowder and leather. They were all sat around Techno and Phil's table with Michael on Ranboo's knee. The little piglin dove into his potatoes without waiting and Ranboo glanced nervously up at Phil and Techno. Techno was already shovelling his own down and Phil just smiled patiently. 

"It's like you two were raised in a pigsty." Phil chirped and passed out the remaining bowls. Tubbo's grip tightened on his cutlery. Ranboo slid his hand over his.

"What, you wanna say grace?" Techno huffed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Michael paused his own feasting to watch him, milky eyes following his every move. "Thanks for the food. Thanks for the uh, company."

"And thank you for Techno's excellent manners." Phil nudged his companion and Ranboo watched the exchange with fascination. He was sure that Phil was the only person alive who could poke fun at Techno and come out with all his limbs. Then again, he hardly had skin to spare. Both warriors looked carved out, crisscrossed with scars like hatch-marks.

Michael leaned up onto the table and took a spoonful of potato. He smeared it carefully across his face, a look of utter concentration on his face. "Oh geez," Ranboo fumbled for his handkerchief, but Tubbo beat him to it. Techno cocked his head as Tubbo wiped the food from his face. 

"You know, Piglins generally use their hands." He said. "Took me ages to learn this stuff. Fine motor skills and all." For all his grace with a weapon, Ranboo had never noticed the clumsy way he held a fork. He took the spoon from Michael's hand and set it down out of reach. Sure enough, he used his little hand like the most natural tool, potato disappearing neatly. 

"Oh." Tubbo's eyes were locked on Michael, fascinated. "What about other tools, hoes and shovels?" Ranboo could see the cogs turning in his head, how he was slowly unpacking and recontextualizing everything Michael had done. It was a particular intelligence that always drew Ranboo in, the way his mind could work a mile a minute.

"Well, swords and axes, not a problem. Not for me at least." Techno's brow creased with thought and Phil doled out another portion of potato to his bowl. "Hoes I got the hang of eventually. Potatoes and all. Just let him use his hands, I guess. Let him figure it out." 

Michael slowed after a minute, abandoning the mashed potato once again in favour of staring at Techno. He reached his clean hand out, tiny cloven fingers fluttering in the air until Techno took them in his own. Tubbo's knee knocked against his and Ranboo turned to see him biting back a smile, the first since they'd arrived for dinner that night. 

It was strange, seeing his tiny hand in Techno's huge, scarred one. Like seeing the future and the present wrapped up in each other. 

"You be good to them, now." Techno said lowly, as if just for Michael. "I think they'll be very good to you."

**Author's Note:**

> i hope that was satisfying or meaningful. it was a really hard write. how can i fit so much resolution in a one shot? i think that it would still take a long long time for tubbo and techno to be comfortable around each other. They are each other's executioners.
> 
> as always i love to read your comments and your kudos really motivate me to keep writing. tell me your fav part, or give me a request :] if you like what i do you can sub on my profile to see my new stuff


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